


J'aime Paris au mois de mai

by i_dreamthedream



Series: Petite ville, grand renom [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Before Sunrise AU, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8179487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_dreamthedream/pseuds/i_dreamthedream
Summary: Eyjafjallajökull [ˈeɪjaˌfjatlaˌjœːkʏtl̥]: a cone-shaped ice cap in south Iceland that covers an active volcano. The volcano’s eruption in 2010 resulted in large high-altitude clouds of volcanic ash that caused major disruption to European passenger air traffic.
Or, that time Alexander Hamilton was stuck in Paris and met John Laurens





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iwillgladlyjointhefight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwillgladlyjointhefight/gifts).



> Hi guys :) 
> 
> So apparently I am a tiny bit nostalgic because now that I am in Mexico, I write a fic about Paris. Here I thought I didn't miss the city too much... Oups! Almost all the places in there are real Parisian places that you should definitively go to if you're in the city! (But don't spend the night outside, it's not really as safe) 
> 
> For Pauline, my fellow French citizen who was the first person I talked to in this fandom. Au plaisir de te rencontrer un jour ! ;)
> 
> Title comes from a song by Charles Aznavour

Springtime in Paris was a wonderful time of the year. The cold days of winter were finally gone, which meant the pavements were no longer slippery with half-melted snow so you wouldn’t break a leg. The sun could finally be seen in the blue sky. The air was warm again. Parisians would give up the long coats and scarfs for lighter jackets of various and bright colors. The terraces of the cafés and restaurants reappeared and in the nicest arrondissements, they seemed to always be filled with pretty girls wearing hat and elegant men in shirts and blazer. Paris was an open-aired postcard, a paradise for tourists from all around the world.

Well except for one.

First of all, Alexander Hamilton was _not_ a tourist thank you very much! He was in Paris on a business trip. His boss had mandated him to represent the firm at a conference at Porte de Versailles since he was fluent in French. Thomas Jefferson, bane of his existence and office’s resident _Francophile_ had choked on thin air when Washington had chosen Alex instead of him. For that, he had been smug until he realized what his boss had just done: condemning him to spend a week in another continent away from all active files. Alexander knew Washington had meant well. He was worried about him. He thought he worked too much. Bullshit, Alex just loved his job and was committed about it. So what if he worked six days a week and was always the first one to arrive and the last one to leave? That was his problem. He didn’t need a caretaker. He was fine. His social life hadn’t been very active lately – read: is totally non-existent – since he and Eliza broke up a little over a year before. Burr had tried to coax him into dating again but Alex had vehemently refused. He barely tolerated his college roommate on good days, he would certainly not let him set him up with one of Theodosia’s friend!

So there he was, in the city of lights, because everybody he knew thought he was lonely. He wasn’t – he was content in his solitude, there was a difference – but whatever. The conference had ended the day before. Now it was Wednesday and he was supposed to take a plane back home in the late afternoon, to arrive on the early hours of Thursday and to enjoy a prolonged weekend (Washington’s orders) before going back to the office on Monday. He couldn’t wait to be back to be honest. His whole body was buzzing with energy and anticipation. And probably the two cups of coffee he had.

He was currently sitting in a small café near his hotel, on the rue Monge. It wasn’t really typical but it had Wi-Fi and good coffee and was way more accessible than Starbuck. He was scrolling his Twitter feed absent-mindedly on his phone when he received and e-mail.

 

_Dear customer,_

_We are very sorry to inform you that due to the recent volcanic activities observed in Iceland, all the air traffic above Europe is suspended until this Friday for safety reasons._

_Our sincerest apologies,_

_Air France Team_

Alexander froze. He was stuck here? No! No no no no, it couldn’t be happening! Was this a trick? Did the universe hate him that much?

He called the phone number at the end of the mail for complaints and after twenty-five minutes listening to the very annoying waiting music, he yelled at the poor phone operator in a mixture of French and English. And he didn’t use the nicest words of both languages. The man assured Alex in a slightly scared voice that he was sure to be on the next flight for JFK on Friday at 3pm, providing that the volcano activities would calm down as predicted. Alex hung up and wrote an email to Washington, explaining the situation.

Once the email was sent, he put his head in his hands and groaned loudly. _What have I done to deserve this?_ He wondered dramatically.

“You alright there?” a voice asked him.

Alex snapped his head up in a second, trying to locate the source of the voice. He didn’t need to look that far: it came from a young man, probably no older than him who was standing by his table, looking half-concerned and half-amused. And _shit_ that guy was also ridiculously attractive. He was strongly built with an ocean of freckles doting his face very nicely. His hair was long and held back in a loose bun and he tucked a curly strand behind his ear. He was wearing faded jeans with strains of paint and a Cheshire cat dark tee shirt and a denim jacket. In other words: he was a walking wet dream for Alex.

“Um,” he said very eloquently. “I’m alright.”

“You know,” the stranger replied. “Paris is not the worst place to be stuck in.”

“How do you know…?”

“Dude, everybody here heard that phone call! If you wanted privacy, you shouldn’t have screamed at that phone operator!” he chuckled. And ok, how did he manage to get even more attractive? _Dios that smile,_ Alexander thought. The guy slid on the chair in front of Alexander like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

Alex looked down sheepishly.

“So what do you need to come back to so ardently?” he continued. “Family?”

Alexander shook his head.

“Just work.”

“Dude, you’re telling me you got bonus holiday time in Paris and you’re _complaining_? Who are you?” His tone was light and a little disbelieving.

“Alexander Hamilton,” Alex extended his hand.

“John Laurens,” the handsome man shook his hand. They were calloused and tainted by what seemed to be charcoal. His handshake was firm and he looked at him directly in the eyes. Alex had to bite his lips to prevent his mind from going into very inappropriate directions.

“What brings you to Paris?” John asked, sipping his own cup of coffee.

“I was here for a conference since the beginning of the week,” Alex explained. “And I was supposed to fly back this afternoon.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t seen any of the city since you’ve arrived?” John asked, this time incredulous.

Alex shrugged. It had seemed like a waste of time.

“No way!” John answered. “We’re changing that! You’ve got a couple of days left!”

Turns out, faced with an overenthusiastic John Laurens, Hamilton was incapable of saying no. It was strange, he was usually distrustful on instinct but one look into John’s hazel eyes and he found himself nodding. The guy was way too cute to be a serial killer. Besides, it’s not like he had something better to do anyway. He shot another email, to his hotel this time to extend his stay and for his bag to be sent at the airport on Friday unless he told them not to. He finished his third cup, paid for them and followed John outside.

“Are you into history?” John asked him. Alex replied by the affirmative. “Cool! Then let’s hit the Panthéon, it’s pretty close so we can walk!”

John led them towards the littlest streets Alex had ever seen in his life. The pavements were old and uneven, made of cobblestone. The streets would weave in every direction with no logic whatsoever. It was nothing like New York. John seemed fascinated by the old buildings and would point to Alex the plaque indicating historical facts. Alex listened to him intently and stayed mostly silent, which was very out of character. But at the same time it was really fascinating to see someone else so passionate about something they love.

They arrived at the Panthéon and Alex can’t help but gawked. From the center of the square, the street gives you a direct line of sight to the Eiffel Tower. It was kinda cool.

“Oh no,” John groaned, “don’t tell me you’re one of those tourists!”

“What?”

“Tell me you know there’s actually more of Paris than this thing!” He point at the Iron Lady.

Alex laughed at John’s indignant tone and held out his hands in surrender. John gestured for them to actually enter the building. From the outside, it looked like a Greek temple, with the columns and the bas-reliefs. It was huge on the inside with tiling on the ground and frescos on the walls. John explained to him that it used to be a church, hence the Saint-Genevieve’s life frescos and that it changed functions during the French Revolution. He led him to the stairs and they went down the crypt.

Alex was in awe. There, Rousseau and Voltaire were facing each other in death. The weight of history and legacy in the room was so huge he momentarily stopped breathing. John seemed to be a bit less impressed but he still looked at the tombs with great respect.

They kept going. The part with the Empire’s generals was done quickly: “Nobody remembers those guys, they’re basically just Napoléon’s war buddies!” The part of the 19th century was far more interesting for him. Alex is unable to move for a solid twenty seconds in front of Victor Hugo’s tomb. He felt like he should say something – something smart and eloquent, he was usually pretty good to do so – but he just stared. Leading toward the 20th century, John showed him a guy totally unknown to Alex next to Jean Jaurès and an administrator of the colonies.

“Victor Schoelcher was an abolitionist,” John said. “Fought against slavery and for equality all his life. He’s a real hero!” Alex smiled.

That place was awesome, that place was filled with the memories and legacies of some of the greatest men and women of the country. It reminded Alex that there was still so much to do, so much to achieve. But it also showed him that hard work was rewarded. He took a deep breath. Beside him, John seemed equally lost in his thoughts. They wandered in the crypt for a good two hours in companionable silence.

When they got out, it was already one in the afternoon and the sun almost burnt their retinas.

“Hungry?” John asked.

Alex was going to say no but his stomach growled at the same time.

John laughed and they headed toward the river. They ended up walking in another labyrinth of tiny streets – seriously how did John manage not to get lost? – until they reached a place where all Alexander could see was junk food. John got them two kebab and fries to share. “The best table in Paris,” he winked.

Alex took a tentative bite. Well it was greasy as fuck but _damn_ it was also really good! They sat on a bench in a small park in front of Notre-Dame to eat.

“So what’s your story?” Alex asked once the fries were eaten. He had double checked he didn’t have salad between his teeth and that he didn’t spill any sauce on his shirt.

“What do you mean?” John replied.

“Why did you decide to leave the States to live here?”

“Who said I was American?”

“But…” Alex stammered. “Your accent… I mean…”

“Nah, I’m messing with you,” John smiled. “I was born in South Carolina.”

“Ah,” Alex answered. “Explains the Southern drawl…” he teased. It was light but still very recognizable.

“Couldn’t quite get rid of it so I gave up,” John shrugged. He turned to look at Alex, as if to assess if he could trust him. Alex didn’t look down, losing himself in John’s eyes. He didn’t know what John was looking for but he must have fount it because he started talking again.

“When I was eighteen, my father sent me off to London to study law in Cambridge.”

Alexander couldn’t help but whistle. “Impressive!”

“I hated it,” John said, bitter. He looked away from Alexander to stare at the two pigeons fighting over breadcrumbs. “Hated the classes, hated the posh students who would mock me for my accent and talked about my Puerto Rican heritage behind my back!”

“Ouch,” Alexander could relate. He had loved Columbia and had completed his studies in two years by working hard. He’d found great friends there. Hell he’d met Burr and Eliza there! Still, almost all of them came from old money and they couldn’t understand how Alexander felt at times. When he walked in class without a laptop for his first semester for example while everybody else was on their MacBook.

“But at the same time I was away from him for the first time!” John continued. “I felt finally free to be myself, I could finally be honest with who I wanted to be…” He hesitated, “and who I loved.”

This time John turned around to look at him, gauging his reaction. Alexander was looking at him, trying to be sympathetic without showing pity. He had a feeling John wouldn’t want it and once again, he could totally understand.

“I’m the gay son of a conservative Republican senator from South Carolina,” he said without missing a beat. “Pretty fucked up uh?”

Alex didn’t have any comfort words to answer. He had never been good at offering false hope or positivity. Growing up, people kept telling him he was going to be alright even though it never did. He wouldn’t do that to John.

So instead he said: “I’m the bastard son of Caribbean immigrants. Actually I’m an orphan… Sucks too.”

John nodded his head in sympathy.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat. “At some point I was just sick of pretending you know? So I dropped out of Cambridge, came out and got banned from the family house. Moved to Paris. It was two years ago.”

“So what are you doing now?” Alex asked.

“I work part-time in a small boutique to pay for art school. I sketch for tourists sometimes too.” John was genuinely smiling this time. The warmth in his voice was back, like when he was telling Alex historical anecdotes. “I have a shitty apartment on the other side of the river. I have some money from my late mother that my father can’t touch. It’s not much but it’s enough to pay the rent and the bills.”

They stayed silent for a moment, watching the flow of Parisians and tourists passing by.

“So what do _you_ do?” John eventually asked.

“I am a financial lawyer. I work for a firm called _The Federalist Institution_ in New York. There isn’t much else to say,” Alex shrugged.

John didn’t push, didn’t ask about the orphan from the Caribbean part for which he was grateful.

“There’s a cool bookshop only five minutes from here,” John finally spoke again. “Wanna check it out?” Alex nodded enthusiastically.

The bookshop was indeed close by and was called _The Shakespeare Library_. It was filled with wooden shelves and books of all shapes and sizes on every available surface. It smelled like ink and dust and Alex never wanted to leave. He scanned the history section and found a thick book about Paris that would probably satisfy his now peaked curiosity. He paid for it and thanked the cashier. John was hovering in the art section when he joined him.

“Van Gogh?” Alex said, pointing at the book John was skimming.

“Yeah,” John answered. “Some of his paintings are in Orsay, it’s a little further down the river if you’re not bored?”

“Sure let’s do it!” Alex couldn’t explain what it was, but he didn’t want to part ways with John just yet. The man was kind, funny and smart. Not to mention he was drop dead gorgeous. So yeah Alex knew at least partly why he wanted to spend more time with John. But that wasn’t just lust. Somehow Alex knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied with just a quick hookup if he had the opportunity – and that was a big ‘if’. He was drowned toward John in a way he hadn’t felt for anybody in his life. _You’re going back to New York in 48 hours,_ a voice supplied in his head, _it would just hurt you and probably him too._ And that voice was right. They had little time together and Alex was sure as Hell not going to ruin it by making a move.

So he just followed John down the river toward the huge building.

“It used to be a train station,” John was being a tourist guide again. “The museum was inaugurated in the 80’s. The art pieces are from roughly from the mid-nineteenth century until World War One. Before it’s in the Louvre and after in Beaubourg. It’s really amazing, you’re gonna love the glass roof!”

They paid for their tickets, well Alexander did. John was an art student so he didn’t need one. Once inside, Alex had to admit that he rather liked the glass roof. The large open space was bathing in the sunlight. Alex noted that the rooms with the paintings were on either side of the building and the corridor was filled with various sculptures. John asked what he wanted to see and Alex had just answered: “Lead the way!”

So John dragged him along the bronze’s figures of deities until the extremities of the former train station. There on the glass floor was a model of the 19th century Paris. Alex was fascinated. There was also a model of the Garnier Opera with great details of the backstage and the basement.

“Went to see a ballet there last semester,” John said. “It was really incredible!”

Then they climbed the stairs and John was almost running toward the Van Gogh room. Alex looked at him with amusement and dutifully followed. John was lost in the contemplation of the _Starry Night over the Rhone._ His face was so relaxed, like the mere sight of the painting had drowned away all his preoccupations and left him with calmness and contentment. His eyes were sparkling. Alex thought the image that was a masterpiece of its own.

He looked around at the rest of the paintings and even though he was mostly clueless in arts, he did enjoy them.

One in particular got his attention: “It’s the painting from Doctor Who!” he exclaimed. John was shaken up from his trance to see Alex bouncing excitedly.

“Yeah,” he replied. “The monster is already gone though, I’m afraid you missed him and Amy.”

Alexander grinned. Gorgeous and a whovian? Definitively his type! _No,_ he scolded himself, _stop that!_

John showed him the other rooms. He thought Gauguin and his vision of the tropical islands were nice. The impressionists of the fifth floor were also awesome. Alex was running out of adjectives to describe it all. Once again, time went out very quickly.

The museum closed at six and they managed to stop by the shop so Alex could get a magnet to pin on his fridge. He chose the Van Gogh painting and John made him promise to go see the other _Starry Night_ once he was back in New York.

The sun was slowly going down when they exited the building and John said they should just walked along the river and Alex didn’t object. The silence wasn’t oppressing like it usually was for Alex. It felt calm, peaceful so he didn’t bother filling it with aimless chatter (even though his chatter was never really aimless, it was always very smart).

From time to time, John pointed at a few buildings or bridges and gave him their names and a few historical facts. Alex nodded. For the most part, he was just paying more attention to the way the sun was illuminating the freckles on John’s neck than anything. A light breeze was playing with his curls. It was mesmerizing. Alex wanted to take a picture so he could cherish that image forever. He was being dramatic, he knew. And even then, there was no way to put on paper the warmth of John’s smile or his sweet humming of lullaby. No, it would be all short-lived and Alex needed to make the most of it. To learn everything he could about John so he could paint a portrait of him in his mind as accurate as possible.

So he just blurted: “Do you believe in ghosts?” with what he hoped was nonchalance.

John shot him a quizzing look, which told him he hadn’t been _that_ nonchalant.

“No,” he eventually replied. “I believe in some form of afterlife but not in spooky spirits. You?”

“I’m a atheist, a skeptic, a cynic… No, no way! I’m too rational for that kind of shit!” Alex answered.

“So you think we’re just here for nothing?” John wasn’t aggressive, merely curious.

“I think God and all his friends are a very good excuse to escape your responsibilities and pass the blame,” Alex shrugged. “I believe there’s nothing a man can’t accomplish with will and skills. And I mean… in the eventuality of God existing, then He made me as I am with my doubts and my so called ‘deviant sexuality’ and all…”

“Deviant sexuality?” John repeated.

“I’m bi, on top of being an immigrant and a loud-mouth bother. Let’s just say it was just the top of the cherry for most of my foster families!” he said bitterly. That was way more personal stuffs than he intended to share.

John slowly nodded. He seemed to be searching for the right thing to say. Alex knew such a thing didn’t exist and that in any case, ‘I’m sorry’ wasn’t it. John apparently realized that because he just put his hand on Alex’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

“C’mon,” he said.

Alex followed him into a small grocery shop. He watched as John picked up some chips, candies and two bottle of fruity rosé. He paid for it all before Alex began to process what was happening. After a less than twenty-minutes long walk, Alex was gawking at the Eiffel Tower again. Except this time it was right in front of him, on the other side of the river and holy shit it was huge. His neck would probably ache if he kept staring but he couldn’t look away all the same. Alex had seen building way higher before in New York but it wasn’t quite the same. John didn’t seem near as fazed by it. He was watching Alex with fondness in his eyes.

They crossed the Iéna Bridge and sat down in the grass in the Champ de Mars, right beside the Tower. John opened the first bottle and took a swing before handed it to Alex. He took it hesitantly. He didn’t really like wine. It was mostly because he didn’t come from the high education that teaches you how to appreciate it. During his college years, he’d stuck to beer while Burr, Theodosia and Eliza were sipping from expensive bottles. From what he knew of John, he came from money too even though he turned his back to it. That meant his palate was probably more delicate than Alexander’s.

He tentatively put the bottle to his lips. He was surprise to find it super sweet and therefore perfect for his tastes. He smiled at John whose only replied was to throw him a candy. Alex didn’t manage to catch him in his mouth and it landed very close to his eye. He rightfully indented to get revenge but when he threw one to John in retaliation, John caught it almost effortlessly.

“Not fair!” Alexander pouted.

“College student advantages,” John smirked.

“Yeah, how does that feel to be the old friend?” Alex teased. John shoved him playfully.

“I’m not _old!_ ” he protested.

“You’re still older than everybody in your class I bet,” Alex smirked.

“Shut up,” John replied. “I bet you’re pretty young compared to the other lawyers you’re working with!”

“Touché,” Alexander admitted since it was true.

They continued to eat their junk food in silence. Neither of them addressed the fact that they had known each other for less than a day and that Alex would most likely be on a plane very soon. Neither mentioned that they had an undeniable chemistry and that it felt like they’ve know each other forever.

John checked the time on his phone and before he could stop himself, Alex asked: “What’s your lock screen?”

If John thought it was a weird question, he didn’t say anything and wordlessly gave him his phone. Alex was met with a picture of John beaming and a man with very curly hair and a toothy grin. Oh and they were shirtless and both very well defined because the universe obviously hated Alex. He could picture a beach behind them but nothing to identify the place. _Does it really matter,_ the stern voice in his head asked (and damn it sounded like a mix of Burr, Washington and Angelica and that was terrifying). Yet the voice was probably right, it didn’t.

“Is that your boyfriend?” he asked and he was very proud that his voice didn’t flatter.

“No!” John replied, looking a bit horrified at the idea. “That’s my best friend, Lafayette.” He explained. “I’m not dating anyone at the moment,” he added after a beat, not meeting Alexander’s eyes. Alex nodded dumbly, it was hard to hear anything with all the trumpets erupting in his ears.

“Show me yours?” John said and Alex supposed it was fair.

His lock screen was taken just a few weeks before he and Eliza broke up at Peggy’s birthday party. The birthday girl was surrounded by her sisters and grinning. Angelica looked proud and Eliza seemed tipsy. Alex had one arm around her shoulders and he didn’t remember the last time he felt as happy and light as he looked in that picture. Theo had her glass raised in cheers next to Angelica and Aaron was watching her with devotion.

John smiled at the picture, “Your friends seem cool.”

“They are,” Alex confirmed. “They’re been bugging me a lot lately but they’re fine.”

“Well all friend do, it’s part of the job,” John answered. “What are they bugging you about?”

Alex sighed. “See the girl in blue in the picture?” John nodded. “That’s my ex-girlfriend. And ever since we broke up last year, they all wanna set me up. Her included.”

John laughed. “That’s… kinda cute,” he said. “They’re probably just worried.”

“They think I’m lonely.”

“Are you?”

If it had been any of the people in the picture that were to ask him that question, Alex would have denied it vehemently. They meant well and Alex knew it. And it was because of that he couldn’t tell them the truth. But John wasn’t any of them and Alex felt like he could trust him, even with something he was somehow afraid to admit to himself.

“I was at first after the break-up,” he confessed. “Eliza and I had been together since college, she was my best friend and I really thought we’d be together for the rest of our lives. Even now I’m still not sure of what happened… just life I guess…”

John was listening to his every word with attention. The night was starting to fall and it seemed they were alone in the world, even though they were surrounded by groups of friends or tourists and even families.

“The thing is during the first few months her sisters – the two other girls next to her in the photo – well they didn’t pick her side per se since we didn’t end things badly but still… They stood by her as they should have. And Burr really tried to help but the guy is basically a robot with no emotion except with Theo so… You don’t know this people,” Alexander realized. “It probably doesn’t make sense to you, I don’t know why I’m telling this… I should shut up now!” He rambled.

“Don’t worry,” John chuckled. “You obviously still have feelings to sort out…” And he looked down as he said so.

“For Eliza?” Alex sounded doubtful. “I mean I still care about her sure. We’re gradually going back to a friendship where it doesn’t hurt like Hell to be in the same room and it’s nice… But romantic feelings? No those are gone…”

John nodded but didn’t say anything. He tucked his backpack under his head, close his eyes and lied down. Alex watched his chest going up and down as he breathed. His t-shirt was showing just a hint of the skin of his hips and Alexander had to force himself to look away because he was very aware it was creepy.

Eventually he unlocked his phone and put his music on shuffle. When the first notes of _La vie en rose_ started, John opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t peg you for a jazz fan,” he said.

“I’m a man full of mystery,” Alex smirked and laid next to him. He didn’t have a real bag for a pillow so he just used the plastic bag from the bookshop with his book inside of it. It wasn’t comfortable but it was better than nothing. They weren’t touching but he could still feel John’s warmth. John hummed in response and closed his eyes again.

Alex wasn’t sure how long it was since they spoke again. He was starting to learn that John had the faculty to change his perception of time. When they were together, it felt both like time stood completely still and like it passed in an instant. Maybe he was a real Time Lord, Alex pondered, that would be a pretty cool explanation.

“Just so you know,” John mumbled. “I don’t feel like coming back to my place. I’m most likely spending the night here so if you want you can come back to your hotel, I totally understand.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’d spend the night on the street,” Alex answered truthfully without even meaning to. “And the circumstances are far more enjoyable now so…”

John was looking at him intently. He shifted to his side to get in a better position and Alex mirrored his actions.

“If I ask you about it,” John began slowly. “Will you tell me?”

“Probably,” Alex answered, once again rendered completely honest.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” John asked.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Alex replied.

John didn’t say anything first. He clearly was hesitating.

“Do you want to know?” Alex prompted him gently.

John eventually nodded but still added, “Only if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“I didn’t,” Alex started. “I didn’t have a happy childhood. I mean everybody has their problems and you were a gay kid in South Carolina so obviously you know that. The short version of it is that my Mama died while we were living in the Caribbean on Nevis and shortly after my cousin – who had become my legal guardian – also died. That’s when I entered the foster system and came to America.”

“How old were you?” John asked softly.

“Fourteen,” he replied.

“That’s very young,” John said.

“It’s too old for almost every couple looking for adoption. And the foster families… Well not all of them were _bad_ but they all got fed up with me eventually. I don’t really blame them, I was a troubled kid with so much anger at everything and everyone…”

“That’s not a reason to give up on you Alex,” John said firmly. Alexander’s heart fluttered. It was the first time John had used the nickname.

“Anyway,” he shrugged. “The summer before senior year, I ran off from the family I was staying with for a few weeks. I’m still not sure why I did exactly – they weren’t the worst – but I…” Suddenly it was hard to breathe. It might have been a long time ago but it was still vivid in his memories.

“Hey,” John whispered and took his hand gently. “You don’t have to finish if you don’t want to… It’s ok…” Alex looked at him in the eyes. He was surprised because he couldn’t make out any traces of pity there. Just kindness, bright and pure. So Alex kept going:

“I just found myself alone on the streets of New York with less than twenty bucks on me at seventeen. The police found me a few days later, I changed families again of course. I mean I only had to spend the night outside for like two days but…” His breath hitched and John started massaging his hand with both his and _fuck_ that felt nice.

“It scared me to death,” Alex confessed. “I never felt so useless, so invisible in my entire life. I wanted to scream, I wanted somebody to listen to me! When I started senior year at yet another high school I decided I would make something of myself y’know? I got a scholarship for Columbia and I never looked back…”

He swallowed back his tears. It was a long time ago. He was no longer the scared kid he was back then. He was stronger now, an adult financially stable with a job he loved and a very nice apartment in Manhattan.

“Sure you wanna spend the night here?” John asked. Dear Lord that boy was too considerate for his own good.

“As long as I’m not alone,” Alex said softly. He hadn’t meant to say that. But his mouth and his brain were apparently conspiring against him. He expected John to flinch or to push him away after that. He really didn’t expect him to pull him closer as he settled on his back once again. He suddenly found himself pressed against his chest, smell of honey and sweat filling in nostrils and making him dizzy. John had put his arm around him, holding him tight.

“Body heat is the best way to not catch a cold,” he said like it was totally normal for them to be cuddling on the open air. Alex’s phone was now playing Sinatra and in that moment, he felt oddly content. He was aware that he was being reckless in more than one way but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He tentatively put an open hand on John chest and fell asleep to the lulling beating of John’s heart accompanying the trumpets.

.

He woke up in the early hours of the morning to little birds happily tweeting. The grass underneath him was wet and he was kinda freezing despite the warm body still hugging him. His back was hurting a little yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret his decision to stay. He checked the surroundings. Nobody had robbed them during the night, which was a good thing. He looked at his watch and realized he’d slept for almost six hours. That was more than the time he usually got when he slept in his own bed. He decided not to overanalyze it, because he knew he wouldn’t like the conclusions. Even if those conclusions had very cute freckles.

Speaking of, John began to stir beneath him and soon enough, his blushing face was very close to the other man’s sleepy one.

“Hey,” John said with a tired voice without any traces of awkwardness. Like it was totally normal for them to wake up curled up together in a public park in Paris.

“Hi,” Alexander breathed.

“What time is it?” John asked.

“Just after eight o’clock,” Alex answered, still whispering.

“Argh…” John groaned, sitting down and Alex was only disappointed they weren’t touching because of the loss of the warmth. Or so he told himself. “Well let’s found a Starbuck! I want coffee and a muffin!”

He slung his backpack on his shoulders and started walking before stopping.

“I mean,” he said. “You don’t have to… if you don’t want… I’d understand if you don’t…”

“John!” Alexander interrupted him. “Let’s get coffee!”

And the smile John gave him in response outshone the morning sun. _Dios mios!_ Eh he was in his own head, he was allowed to be dramatic in whatever language he wanted. _Merde!_ He added for good measure.

Thanks to capitalism and globalization, Alex and John had little problem finding a Starbuck. The drinks and pastries were almost the same with few exceptions of French baguettes, no doubt to seem more authentic. Alex got a double espresso, as usual and categorically refused a croissant. No way, they could find a real bakery for that. And in any case, he never ate much for breakfast. John got a latte to which he added sugar, cinnamon and cream with a muffin. They sat in a booth and Alex plugged his phone to recharge. Thank God he always carried the charger and the adaptor with him!

“So,” Alexander started because he could only be silent for so long. “What do you plan to do with your art degree?”

“You don’t do small talk do you?” John chuckled. Alex only shrugged. “I’m not sure,” John admitted. “I like sketching but it’s more a hobby than anything. Graphic design is cool but recently I’ve taken a liking in photography so we’ll see.”

“What you don’t have a plan?” Alex was a bit surprised.

“I throw away a future of financial stability to live _la vie bohème_ in Paris!” John laughed. “I’m no longer planning anything in my life and I’ve never been happier. Sucks sometimes, when I can pay for the rent but not for the electricity for example but I’ll survive…”

“ _Vous parlez français?”_ Alexander asked, wanting to show off a little.

“ _Alexandre,”_ John said and Alex had never thought that French with a Southern accent could be sexy but he was quickly revising his judgment. _“On a passé la nuit ensemble, je pense qu’on peut se tutoyer!”_

Alexander blushed furiously at those words. God was he that flustered with a little innuendo? That wasn’t like him. That wasn’t like him at all! He used to be good at this, at flirting with a stranger met in a bar, charm them and take them home. Well he was out of practice in that field he supposed. Nobody in the last year had seemed to be worth his time. Until a fatal phone call in a Parisian coffee shop.

“You think you’ll go back to the States?” Alex asked, not really sure why but wanting to change the subject.

John’s look hardened. “No, not permanently at least. It’s just… No matter how big it is, it’ll always feel like I could run into my father and I don’t trust myself not to punch him in the face… I have a student visa,” he added. “And I could easily apply for citizenship in a couple of years so…”

“You’d stay in France?”

“Look around!” John exclaimed. “You’re in the city of lights! Hundreds of years of history, nobody carries a gun, minimum social security for all…” Alex had to admit that was kinda great. Well the country did have its flaws – same sex marriage wasn’t legal, high unemployment and bigot politicians – though the last one tended to be universal he’d learn. Yet he couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in his chest and he didn’t understand why. So he didn’t comment, just asked: “What are you doing today then?”

John shrugged, “If you’re not tired of playing tourist, we could see a few things of this side of the river. They say that _rive droite_ is less bohemian than _rive gauche_ but… Still worth it.”

“You don’t have classes today? Or homework to do?” Alexander asked. That seemed odd to him. But then again when he was in Columbia, he’d spend all his time not working on his essays writing articles for the university paper. Burr and then Eliza had to remind him not everybody worked non-stop like he did.

“Handed over my last project last week,” John explained. “Jury’s decision is in June so until then I’m free to play tour guide!” And he _honest to God winked at him_ and Alexander swore his heart stopped in that moment. “So you’re in?”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind then yeah let’s do it,” Alex replied, smiling.

John beamed. They excited the Starbuck and walked again along the river in the other direction. With the sun in the sky Alex could only more appreciate the architecture than the night before. There was something majestic about the way the bridges were joining each sides of the river. Something very antagonistic about the way the buildings were holding themselves with a humble pride. They quickly found themselves in the _Place de la Concorde._ Alex knew it was where the Revolution decapitated the king. He saw no guillotine however, just an obelisk and a Ferris wheel. The traffic was terrible and they had to wait for an incredibly long amount of time before crossing.

John led him to the nearby park. “This is the jardin des Tuileries,” John explained. “Designed by the same guy who did the Versailles Garden.”

“Neat,” Alex replied.

The whole place was really _à la française._ Every alley, every flower had its place. The grass was perfectly cut. It all seemed a bit artificial to Alex but right after he thought that, John took his hand and they sat on two of the many iron chairs by a fountain. Pigeons were curiously approaching them but a couple of joggers ran by and scared them away.

John retrieved a camera from his bag and snapped a picture. He examined it for a minute, nose wrinkled and eyes full of concentration. Alex thought he looked cute.

“Do you mind if I just take a look around?” John asked. “The light is great today and if you want, there’s a bagel place not far if you’re in for lunch in a few.”

So John got up and took pictures of the trees, the fountains, the people wandering by… Alex pretended to busy himself with his phone when he spent an hour giving sideway glances toward John. He watched his hands holding the camera with precise movements. His eyes were still focused but they were also sparkling. Alexander wanted to learn every expression of his face when he was looking at a picture. Did that sly smile mean he was satisfied? When he bit his lips, did that mean he wasn’t sure? And when he shook his head, was it because he was disappointed?

John turned his head and looked back at him and Alex forced himself to look away. He didn’t see the blinding smile on John’s face when he took a picture of him.

John walked back toward him, smiled and said: “Bagels?”

The little restaurant was only ten minutes away. They took two bagels each and a soda just because they could. Alex paid, even though John protested loudly.

“You paid for the dinner yesterday,” Alex told him. “It’s only fair.”

They went back to the park to eat. Like the day before, Alex tried to take bites without losing his dignity and more or less failed. But John laughed open-heartedly so he supposed it wasn’t too bad. Well he still pouted for good measure. Conversation flowed easily between them. John told Alex about some of his best friend’s shenanigans and Alex shared his best pranks on Jefferson.

“We’re next to the Louvre,” John said eventually when they were done eating. “Wanna see the pyramids?” And really how could Alex refuse?

They were only two hundreds meters away and Alex’s eyes went wide. It should be weird, he thought, glass pyramids in the middle of a 17th century castle but it wasn’t. The pyramids seemed to belong there.

“Get on one of those things!” John ordered him. “And give me your phone!” Alex reluctantly took place on one of the rocks for tourists to take a photo. John gave him instructions on how to place his arm so that it would seem he was holding the pyramid in his hand. As much as Alex wanted to be annoyed, he was just grinning like an idiot on that damn picture.

“Your friends will be glad to see you had fun,” John teased him when he gave him back his phone. Alex rolled his eyes.

“Let’s head inside,” John said.

“But there’s so much queue!” Alex protested. It was true. Tourists were waiting in lines and didn’t seem to be moving.

“Amateurs,” John smirked. “Come with me!”

Alex followed dutifully like he’d done the day before. John went to one of the right wings of the castle with a lion statue and sure enough, there was a stair to lead them down the museum. John opened his bag to security. Alex bought a ticket.

“Ok,” John said. “So we’ve seen the Eiffel Tower and I refused this to be another Parisian cliché so unless you really, really want to, I suggest we skip the _Mona Lisa_.”

“Seriously?” Alex asked incredulous.

“It’s much smaller in reality and it’s always hidden behind three tourists’ cars with their guide,” John shrugged. “And it’s Friday so it’s gonna be crowded.”

“Alright,” Alex conceded. “What else is worth seeing in that damn museum?” he said challengingly.

“I’m glad you asked,” John responded. And if he took his hand to show him around, that was just bonus.

They spend another three full hours inside, never bored. Alex was mesmerized by the art objects. Those were so old and so beautiful, all gold, silver and other precious metals. Most of them were tiny pieces, parts of a bigger ensemble that was now gone but still extremely detailed. The fact that almost of all them were related to the Catholic faith didn’t even bother him. He gaped – again – faced with Charlemagne’s sword. “Her name is _Joyeuse,”_ John told him.

“Hello _Joyeuse_ ,” Alex had answered, making John laughed. They saw a chess game from the Medieval Age with glassed-pieces and pretended to play for half an hour. And Alex did _not_ lose ok? They spent some time in one of the court, admiring the statues from the Renaissance. Alex liked them because they seemed more real than the religious art of the precedent historical period. John took a few pictures – flash off obviously – and kept feeding him with anecdotes about a piece or an artist.

“How do you know so much about this shit?” Alex’s tone was impressed.

John shrugged, “Just an history nerd. When I’m not home I’m always visiting a museum. Laf hates when I drag him along!”

“You can drag me anywhere,” and _damn_ why did he just say that? Not for the first time, Alex cursed himself for his lack of brain-mouth filter. He thought John would look at him funny or mock him or just leave but he did none of that. He smirked and in a _very_ low voice whispered, “I’m really glad to know.”

“Do you flirt with everyone or just with me?” Alex couldn’t help asking. John’s only response was another very flirtatious smile. _One of those could easily cause my death,_ Alex thought. But all things considered, it wouldn’t be the worst way to die.

He wanted to buy another souvenir at the shop but they didn’t have a figurine of what they saw. Disappointed, he still decided to buy a book about the museum to compensate for what he hadn’t seen.

It was nearly six in the afternoon when they resurfaced. They wandered around in the streets, Alex didn’t pay attention to where they were going – he wasn’t even sure John knew. He just enjoyed the walk in a very nice city he had nearly missed if not for a wonderful man. All the buildings were less massive than what he knew of New York but in a way they seemed more authentic. He and John were side by side, conversing idly and occasionally brushing against each other.

The architecture changed, Alex noticed, depending on the arrondissement. They must had left the center historical since they were no longer surrounded by old buildings. The constructions seemed more recent there, the pavements were even and the streets straighter. They were also more shops and restaurants around but not the same kind that near the Louvre. Those were cheaper, more popular. All the streets were more alive, with many people and mostly fairly young hanging out in groups and laughing. He liked it there, Alex decided.

“So,” John said. “I know this place not far from here. It’s a little restaurant, doesn’t seem like it but the food is great and it’s pretty cheap too. And there’s also a bar nearby if you feel like really enjoying a Parisian night!”

His voice was lacking his usual smirk. Instead he looked almost bashful which was a look Alex had never seen on him. He added it to his on-going list of the ways John Laurens was ruining him. Because even then he was way to cute for it to be considered fair. He didn’t understand why John would be shy at this moment though. It was not like they hadn’t eaten together during the last two days. Why would a meal and a drink be differ… _Oh,_ his brain caught up, _wait did he just ask me out?_ That seemed absurd, something that would only happen in his wildest dreams and yet John was currently chewing on his lower lips and shifting his weight from one feet to the other, waiting for Alex to reply.

“I would love to,” he heard himself saying.

“Great!” John beamed. “Allons-y!”

Alex chucked, “How very Tennant of you,” he said following John.

“What?” John said in mock-offence, “you don’t think Ten is the best Doctor _ever_?”

“I’m rather fond of Nine,” Alex admitted. John rolled his eyes. “Wait you didn’t skip Nine, did you?” Alex asked and the indignation in his voice was not faked.

“Who do you think I am?” John responded. “Alright, I know a way to settle this!”

“Which is?” Alexander asked skeptically.

“We just declare Captain Jack the winner!”

Alex laughed openly at that, “I can live with that verdict!”

They had arrived to the restaurant. It was a small place with iron chairs, lampposts and a black slate with the menu on. They sat in the terrace outside even if the temperature had started to drop. Alexander chose the _plat du jour_ at John’s recommendation and the two kept chatting as they ate their meal. _Were they really on a date?_ Alex kept wondering. He was torn between really wanted the answer to be yes and the overwhelming realization that his last first date had been with Eliza five years before and that he had no clue how to act. But with John it seemed easy to be himself, to relax, to simply enjoy that moment without overanalyzing it all. He still chose to ignore the fact that the volcano’s activity had pretty much stopped and that he was most likely to go back to New York the next day.

When they got the bill, John refused to let him pay, arguing that he was the one to suggest the restaurant in the first place.

“Fine,” Alex huffed. “But you’re letting me pay for the drinks Laurens!”

“You’ve got yourself a deal Hamilton!”

And if Alex left a good tip, it was none of John’s business.

The bar was a couple of blocks down in a street where shops alternated with either a bar or a nightclub. Alex noticed a significant amount of pride flags.

“Are we going to a gay bar?” he asked.

“Hum, yeah,” John answered. “Is that ok? I mean I mostly go to those and you said you were queer so I thought…”

“It’s okay,” Alex interrupted him. “It’s just…” he gestured to the flags.

“We’re in the Marais,” John explained. “That’s the gay quarter.”

Inside the bar, the music was louder than Alex expected. _Man I must be getting old,_ he thought. They ordered, a Guinness for John – “I have an Irish friend, I love that shit!” – and a Cosmo for Alex. They sipped their drinks in silence. It was hard to talk over the music anyway. Alex didn’t know many of the songs but then again that was not surprising. Still, it was nice – not like the electric beat everybody seemed to dig but that only left him perplexed. John’s fingers were tapping against the bar stool along the different rhythms. He was apparently enough of a regular that the barman offered to keep his backpack and their jackets until they had to go. Alex was trying very hard not to stare at his arms.

After their second drinks, John eventually gestured for them to move to the dance floor. Alex was a bit partial to the idea. He very well knew that even sober he had two left feet and his two cocktails were pretty strong. Not strong enough to cloud his mind but definitely enough to screw his balance.

“C’mon,” John pleaded. “Please?” and he offered him his hand and Alex was too weak to refuse.

John was a _great_ dancer Alex learnt immediately. He knew exactly how to move his body to the beat. The way he swayed his hips was tantalizing. Alex on the other hand was more or less standing awkwardly wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with his arms. John giggled and pulled him in, resting one hand on his hip and the other on his shoulder. “Let go,” he said in his ear. “Don’t think!”

Alex wanted to tell him that it never happened but then John started moving against him and his brain short-circuited. He relaxed gradually, tentatively rocking his hips and he could admit to himself that he enjoyed the dancing more that he thought. And the fact that he had a close view on John Laurens’ arms was only half of the reason.

He didn’t know how long they danced. He went twice get them another drink – without alcohol because he wanted to keep his head clear and John hadn’t protested. When they left, it was nearly midnight.

John led him to a big place with a bronze statue in the middle. “This is la place de la République,” he said. “All the protests – well most of them – they start from here toward Nation. It a great place to remember what you stand for,” his eyes were bright, passionate like when he was taking a picture. His face was literally glowing and he looked so damn beautiful that Alex threw away any recommendation of prudence.

They were holding hands since they left the club, a fact that none of them had commented, it had just happened. Alex took a step to stand right in front of John and look at him in the eyes. John tilted his head, a silent question to which Alex responded by leaning up to his tiptoes. Slowly, very slowly to give John time to pull back, Alex brought their faces together in a kiss.

It was sweet at first, slow. John’s lips were hot against his own and before he knew it they parted. John tasted like beer and sweat and still undeniably sweet. He kissed him harder, pressing their bodies together. Alex was dizzy and he knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol. At some point he had grabbed John’s neck and his hands were now ruining John’s ponytail. John was holding onto his hips and with the way his grip tightened, he was not complaining.

When they broke apart, Alex rested his forehead against John’s, both painting. John took a step back and Alex panicked for a millisecond before he offered him his hand for the second time tonight.

“C’mon,” he whispered and once again Alex didn’t say no.

John took him to his apartment. It was on the fifth floor in a neighborhood that was objectively less nice than the one they’ve been so far. The streets were less clean and on the way they crossed paths with three drunks who called them slurs. Alexander didn’t care, he was holding John’s hand this whole time.

John fumbled a little with opening the door but then Alex heard a distinct _click_ and suddenly they were inside. The day before, John had said that his apartment was ‘shitty’ but the word Alex would have used to describe it was ‘homey’. Most of the space was a living room with an old-looking sofa and a coffee table. In the small kitchenette, Alex could see John had pinned some drawings on the fridge as well as some pictures. He could also see two closed doors and he assumed one of them was the bathroom and the other the bedroom. _Right, bedroom, oh shit._

John closed the front door behind them and began to lead him there with the hand he was still holding. They entered, revealing an unmade bed, bookshelves all filled with books about arts history and a laptop on the desk. He spotted a stuffed turtle and a Dalek poster. Everything in there screamed _John_ in a way that Alex found was achingly familiar already.

They were standing in front of each other again, holding hands. None of them dared to move.

“Sorry about the mess,” John murmured. “I wasn’t expecting this to happen.”

“It’s okay,” Alex replied in the same tone. His throat was dry and he unconsciously licked his lips. John’s eyes traced the movement, dark. John leaned down this time, kissing him. It was wetter this time, dirtier. All air left Alex lungs but he discovered he could come alive under John’s touch. His hands were slowly tracing Alex’s body, his hips, his ribs, his face. He was gentle, almost reverent. When he pulled back, Alex was breathing hard. He mouthed at his skin, his throat, his neck and Alex didn’t bother to suppress the moan coming from somewhere deep in his chest. He felt John’s fingers starting to unbutton his shirt so he could go lower and it was all too much suddenly.

“John,” he panted, stopping the other man’s hands with his own. They stilled immediately and John came to rest his head on his forehead.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is this too fast?”

“I don’t know,” Alex answered honestly. “It’s just… It’s been a while for me,” he admitted. “I haven’t,” he looked down. He couldn’t face the fire in John’s eyes at that moment. “I haven’t been with anyone since my last relationship ended a year ago,” he said quietly.

John put his hand under his chin gently so they could look at each other again.

“Do you want this?” Alex nodded.

“Do you trust me?” Once again, the answer was easy.

“I don’t mind taking it slow,” John smiled. And he walked backward to his bed, Alexander following close. John sat down and Alexander dived in, enjoying the new leverage he had and kissed him deeply.

John let him set the pace from then on. They discarded they clothes slowly, testing the newly exposed skin with their tongues. They murmured sweet nothings to each other, praises like _you’re so beautiful, you feel amazing._ John let Alex kiss almost every freckle on his naked body and then he retrieved the lube and the condom box from his drawer. It’s a myth that the first time with someone you have a strong connection with is systematically magical. What was true for them however, was that they were both very attentive and very fast learners. So their first times wasn’t exceptional but by the third one, they had become very good at satisfying each other’s need.

They were also running out of time. None of them mentioned it yet they knew they couldn’t make any promise that would last beyond the sunrise.

Before he felt asleep, sweat cooling on his skin and feeling happier than he had in a long time, Alex wrapped himself around John. He listened to his heartbeat again and the thought he wouldn’t be able to ear it the next day made him wanna cry.

.

When Alex woke up, the sunlight was peaking through the binders and John was spooning him. Alex knew he was awake because he was nuzzling at his neck, kissing and biting the tender skin occasionally. For a second, he close his eyes and let himself believe he could have this. That he could wake up every morning to someone loving, someone he could love as much as he’d love Eliza if not more. He imagined them laughing together in the morning, making out on the couch lazily on the afternoon, wandering in the city hands in hands, utterly happy. He imagined taking John to see a play, he imagined other nights out dancing before coming back and throwing themselves at each other on the bed. Then he opened his eyes again and the fantasy was gone.

He shifted back so he could look at John.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi, did I wake you?”

Alex shook his head and stole a kiss from John’s lips.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Just after eleven,” John replied. “What time do you have to be at the airport?”

“At one. My flight leaves at three.”

“Ok,” John said. “Do you wanna take a shower?”

“Yeah.” That might clear his head. And help him figure out what the _fuck_ he was supposed to do now. Because he’d been right, one night was not enough. If he was honest, he had also known that the night before but he had chosen not to care. He had yearned a part of John for himself. He had gave in on his feelings because he knew there were on short supplied. He had wanted to take a stupid claim over a man that was never his and would never be. A part of him felt like he could not ever get enough of John and that scared him.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, wearing the same clothes for the third day in a row, John was in the kitchen making breakfast. He had put on a pair of sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” he said. “D’you wanna eat? There’s waffles and coffee!”

“Waffles?” Alex repeated.

“Frozen waffles,” John amended, handed over a cup of coffee Alex gratefully accepted. “And I have sugar and jam if you want.”

“Thank you,” Alex replied.

They ate in the sofa in silence but it was heavy this time. John put the plates in the sink to rinse and came back to sit beside him.

“We,” Alex started when he couldn’t bear the silence. “We should probably talk.”

John nodded sadly and said. “Look I don’t regret last night ok? I really don’t Alex, but…”

“But,” Alex repeated and he didn’t know a word could sound like a stab wound. “We were doomed from the start.”

John exhaled loudly, struggling to find the words. “It’s just, I don’t want us to make promises we can’t keep. My life is here now and yours is on the other side of the Atlantic. I mean, sure we can exchange WhatsApp numbers and Facebook but…”

“But,” and Alex wondered how many blows he could take.

“It would probably hurt more in the end, right?” John’s eyes were pleading. Alex had no idea what answer John wanted him to give.

“So we just,” he said instead of answering, “spend the next hour together then I take a cab and we never see each other again?”

“Then we let those days become a very good memory.” Alex wanted to argue, to fight John on this, to find a solution. But they had an hour left. So he just let John put his arms around him and hold on tight.

John kissed him deep and slow before he climbed inside the cab and he made sure his silhouette was gone before he let himself cry. _Au revoir, mon cher Laurens._

.

It was the beginning of July and Alex was having lunch in Manhattan with Aaron and Theo. The two had recently gotten engaged and were glowing with love and happiness. Alex was happy for them, he really was. He just hadn’t been himself since he’d gone back from Paris. The greatest city in the world now seemed dull, the skyscrapers were bland. He’d gone to the MoMA to see the _Starry Night_ and had cried for fifteen minutes on his way back. His work seemed monotonous and even Jefferson had started to worry over him.

“Earth to Alex?” Theo said.

“Sorry what?” he had zoned out again.

“Alex,” and oh no! That was Theo’s stern voice, the one that said _you’ve got a problem and we’re gonna talk about it._ She and Angelica had the same and he knew he wouldn’t escape this conversation.

“You need to do something about it,” she said firmly. He had told them about John. He had spilled everything to his friends after too much of Peggy infamous punch.

“Yeah what? He’s in Paris and I’m in New York. There’s nothing I can do to change that!”

“You can change that actually,” Aaron piped him. Alex glared at him, _traitor!_

“He’s not coming back to the States.” John had been clear about that. Alex had looked up Senator Laurens on Google and given his political views, he couldn’t blame John to want to stay away.

“That’s not the only option,” Aaron commented.

“Seriously Burr?”

“Why not? You speak French fluently, you have a diploma from Columbia and I bet Washington would write you a great recommendation letter. I know you’ve got enough savings now so what stops you?”

“Have you gone insane?” Alex asked incredulous. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Look,” Theo intervened. “Before you went to Paris you were lonely and we were already preoccupied. But you’ve been goddamn miserable since you’re back! You’re obviously not over that guy and you’re Alexander Hamilton! Why are you waiting?”

“You’re suggesting moving to _another continent_ to be with a guy I only spend forty-eight hours with!”

“Tell me there isn’t a tiny part of you who’s crazy enough to want it,” Burr challenged him. And he was right. Alex had fantasized that John would come at the airport and ask him to stay, the last plot twist of any good romantic comedy. He had waited until the last call before going on the plane. He had _hoped._ So it was crazy, reckless, totally irresponsible and _damn_ if that didn’t also make him feel alive for the first time since coming back.

“I’d miss you guys,” he mumbled. Theo laughed a squeezed his hand on the table.

“We’re gonna miss you too honey.”

“I haven’t decided anything yet!” he protested.

“Yes Alexander,” Burr said. “You just had.”

.

August was hot and John was bored. Lafayette was still visiting family in Auvergne and Hercules was hitchhiking across Europe with Cato. He normally wouldn’t mind being by himself but he desperately needed a distraction. Ever since Alex had left his apartment, he’d felt a hole in his chest he had no idea how to fill. He hadn’t changed the sheets until days after, once the smell of him was gone. He’d watched the love bites the other man had left on his skin faded after a few days. The only thing he had to remember him by was the picture he took in the Tuileries. Alexander was sitting in one of those ugly chairs, head tilted down with a smile on his face that could only be qualified as tender. The background was mostly blurred, which highlighted the fire behind his irises. And if John stared at that picture on his computer screen for an unhealthy amount of time, nobody had to know. He was being ridiculous, he knew and that was why his friends needed to come back ASAP!

So he was in the middle of doing nothing in the middle of the afternoon when somebody knocked at his door. _Weird,_ he thought. That never happened – his friends would usually barge in unannounced. There was a few occasions when the old lady from upstairs needed help with something but he knew she was on vacation with her family so who could it be?

He opened his door and Alexander was on the threshold.

John opened his mouth several times but he couldn’t seem to get any word out. They stared at each other for a long minute without saying anything before Alexander broke the silence.

“Hi John.” _Seriously?!_ The guy showed up at his door, looking even more gorgeous than in John’s memory and that’s all he said? How dare he come and interrupt John’s moping?

“I’m sorry to show up unannounced,” he had the decency to say. “But I didn’t have your number and you’re the only person I know in the city. I mean Jefferson gave me a few phone numbers, which was weird, but I guess the guy was happy to see me go but those are Jefferson’s friends so they’re probably gigantic assholes and…”

“Alex,” John interrupted his rambling. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything but,” well at least his mouth was working again. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” Alex hesitated, “I moved in here last week actually. Got a nice place in Montmartre.”

Ok now John’s ears were malfunctioning. There was no way Alex had just said he’d moved to Paris. In one of the nicest quarters mind you and not too far from here. Well it wasn’t very practical in metro but surely there was a bus line… _Wait a minute!_

“But that’s insane!” he said. “You… you just moved here? You quit your job and you moved here? Why?”

Alex nodded.

“When I got back to New York I realized something,” John stopped breathing. “I realized that I fell in love with the city of lights on a nice day of May.” John was speechless. Alex who used to look at him straight in the eyes was now looking at anything but his face. His voice was trembling.

“And,” he added. “I might have fallen for a Parisian born in South Carolina.” He finally looked up at John with so much hope in his eyes. John wanted his camera so he could fixe that image forever. Then maybe he could paint it. Because in that moment he had never seen anything more beautiful.

For months now John had unconsciously made room is his life for someone he thought he’d never see again. He had rewatched Christopher Ecclestone’s Doctor and found it great but he had no one to tell. He had tried to make a Caribbean meal and nearly set his apartment on fire. He’d been so miserable he had contemplate the idea of getting a cat because those were independent and fierce with piercing eyes just so he could call it Hamilton. But now he didn’t have to. Because Alexander was here, right in front of him and he wouldn’t leave this time. He would _stay._

But then Alex’s face fell. He ducked his head and mumbled something that sounded like an apology and started to retrieve. And suddenly John realized that in his myriad of emotions _he had forgotten to answer!_

“There’s a place,” he said, panicking, “in the Latin Quarter called _Le caveau de la Huchette.”_

Alex stopped, turned around to look at him confused.

“It’s a bar but they have this room downstairs where you can dance rock and roll. They always play great jazz bands.”

A flicker of hope danced again in Alex’s eyes.

“It would be a nice for a date,” John added.

“But I can’t dance,” Alex said smiling with mischief.

“I know,” John answered. “I’d teach you.” And he let out his hand. Alexander didn’t hesitate before taking it.

John pulled him in in a bruising kiss. _God_ it felt good. Alex was a very good kisser, very dedicated. He tasted like coffee and mint and his tongue was evilly skilled. They’d been tentative last time, treating each other like a precious piece of art because they’d both been aware of the countdown above their heads. Now that it was gone though, Alex was gripping at John so hard it would probably leave bruises. John scrapped his teeth on the uncovered skin he found on his neck in retaliation and Alex needed to stop making those noises for them to have any chance to make it to the bed.

John tucked him inside and hastily closed the door behind them. They had some _catching up_ to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked the DW references because I had so much fun with them. If you don't watch the show, "Vincent and the Doctor" is one of the most beautiful thing I've seen on TV! 
> 
> My flight for Mexico was canceled and I had to listen to AirFrance stupid waiting music for 45 minutes so I can asure you that Alex's anger is totally legitimate! 
> 
> "Alexandre, on a passé la nuit ensemble, je pense qu’on peut se tutoyer!” : Alexander, we spent the night together, we can skip the formalities (not litteral, but that's because there is no tu/vous difference in the English language) 
> 
> Come speak with me on [Tumblr](http://i-dreamthedream.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> This serie now has its own [sideblog!](https://smallcitygreatrenown.tumblr.com/)


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